A Stolen Journey
by Pauciloquent Mushroom
Summary: Adara Sirvard will not be denied her Pokemon Journey. Even if she has to steal it.
1. School sucks

Tick.

No..

Tock.

No no no...

Tick.

How could this happen?

Tock.

How could I _let_ this happen?

Tick.

This can't be possible.

Tock.

Alright, just... Focus.

Tick.

_Focus_.

Tock.

FOCUS DAMN YOU!

Tick.

SHUT-

"-UP!" I jerk my head upwards to glare at the self-righteous piece of mechanical shit hanging from the wall as the second hand clicks forward yet another derisive count, the numerals seeming to stare smugly at me.

Someone behind me clears their throat. It's only at this point that I realize I had actually shouted what was in my mind out loud,  
for the whole class to hear. God damni-

"Excuse me, Miss Sirvard?"

I hear a few kids off to either side of me snigger. I keep my head and eyes facing forward as I respond.

"... Yes, Mr. Andrews?"

"Do keep the class disruptions to a minimum in the future."

That was one time! Five months ago! Bastard!

"Yes, Mr. Andrews."

There's a moment of silence, he's probably nodding that great, misshapen head of his.

"Good. Continue with the test, class."

The snickering slowly quiets down as I turn my eyes back down to the satanic abomination that engineered this latest public embarrassment for me.

A test.

A math test.

Kill me now.

I take a deep breath in, and slowly let it out. I can do this. C'mon, Adara, you know this stuff. You studied it.  
You got this. You got this.

I got this.

* * *

I don't got this.

I'm left staring at the same problem I was ten minutes ago. The tick of that sadistic clock the only noise echoing throughout the classroom.

Determine the coordinates of the vertices of the image of trapezoid WXYZ, when scaled through a factor of 5 with the center of dilation at the origin. Explain your reasoning.

What does it mean, 'explain your reasoning'? If I multiply this, it equals that! That's my goddamned reasoning!  
Am I missing something? Is it not as obvious as it looks? Are there multiple answers, somehow?  
Andrews _would _shove a trick question in here, wouldn't he, the sleazy, balding-

My train of thought is cut off by the soft, yet loud 'ding, dong' of the bell. All around me, chairs are shoved backwards, letting out shrill shrieks as the students kick and shove each other in their path out of the classroom and into the mass of chattering students heading home.

Except me. I'm still staring at my paper.

A hand comes down and slides the unfinished test off my desk. I look up to see the disappointed eyes of Mr. Andrews roving over my mediocre answers. When he notices my gaze, he turns his stare to me and slowly shakes his head before walking back to his desk. His shoes squeaking against the tile floor the only sound reverberating through the room.

That and the damnable clock.

I glumly pick myself up from the desk, secure my faded yellow backpack around my shoulder, and exit the classroom.

* * *

I make it all of ten steps before I'm accosted by the 'popular crowd'. I'd be willing to bet all the money I've ever saved that most, if not all of the kids who laughed at me in the classroom were standing somewhere in this crowd of bitches and bastards.

I turn my back on them and walk the other way.

"Hey Sirvard, heard you failed your test."

They're not going to quit today, are they?  
I don't bother to point out to whoever that high and bubbly voice belongs to that my test hasn't been graded yet.

I made it halfway down the page. There's no way I didn't fail.

"You know what that means, riiiiiiight?"

A failed test means a failed grade. A failed grade means summer school. Summer school means no Journey.

"Hey bitch, answer me when I'm talking to yaaaAAAHHHH!"

I whip my head around when I hear the derisive comment turn into a garbled scream.  
What I see makes me eyes open wide, and I quickly open my bag to find an opened Poke Ball staring back up at me.  
How the hell does he keep getting out?!

I turn my eyes back up to the spectacle and shout, "Gastly! No! STOP! Get OFF her!"

A perfect sphere, colored purple and at least three times the size of my head, is glaring murder at a tall brunette. Copious amounts of a neon blue gas roll off him, and the scowl on his face is getting larger by the second. The girl is writhing on the ground, her head engulfed by the noxious gas and her eyes bulging.

He glances at me when I speak, but otherwise continues chocking her. I open my mouth to try to call him off again when a hated voice indignantly squawks from behind me,

"What is going on here?"

The crowd of people, who were dumbly standing and watching their friend dying in front of them, finally seems to come to life and multiple people all start yelling their own versions of what happened at Mr. Andrews. I use the opportunity to quietly slip out my Poke Ball and suck a protesting ghost pokemon into it. I turn my back and walk briskly around the crowd, hoping against hope that-

"Miss Sirvard, where do you think you're going?"

Could this day get any worse?


	2. Dad sucks

**I got a review. This makes me happy. Thank you, Panthershade, for giving this story a chance.**

**As to your questions, the region will be revealed in a hint this chapter, and this story is based on the game.**

**I apologize for the angst this chapter, I really wasn't expecting it, but we'll get past it soon enough.**

* * *

I just had to jinx it, didn't I?

My Dad was called. My Dad was actually called by the school principal, because Mr. Andrews believed those stupid howling aipoms over me. 'Attacked without provocation'. I'll show them attacked without provocation...

My thoughts are cut off when the principal's office door is opened and my Dad comes out. He motions to me and I get up.

"Dad, I..." He shakes his head and I fall silent. I stay silent until we get in the car.

"Dad, you know I wouldn't-" He cuts across me,

"Save it, 'Dara. Your principal tells me you've been making F's on your tests."

"Only on math! And you know how hard I've been studying, you've seen me do it yourself!"

It's true. I've spent hours of the past week solving mathematical problems and ingraining them into my brain. Hating every minute of it, but doing it.

"I've seen you staring at paper, but now, I'm not so sure."

His facial expression is blank as he says this, and his voice is monotone.

"Dad... how could you believe that I-"

"You're not going on your Journey."

A stab in the heart. That's pretty much all that is. I knew that as soon as I entered my math class,  
but to hear it said out loud...

"T-there's always next year." I say, my voice trembling.

"No. There's not." His facial expression and tone of voice still callously unchanged.

"... What do you mean there's not? Of course there is, I, I didn't go when I was eleven, just like you wanted,  
we can wait one more year, I-"

"No. We can't." His head turns to me, and somewhere in the back of my mind I'm wondering why he's not watching the road,  
"Your mother and I have discussed this. You are not going on your Journey. At all."

My head is spinning. This can't be right. I fell asleep during the test. I'm going to wake up to laughing classmates,  
drool on my paper, and an irate Mr. Andrews telling me to finish. Any minute now.

"... Why?" His head has turned back forward, and my voice is trembling even more now.  
If my hopes and dreams weren't dying as we spoke, I would be embarrassed about that.

"Because your schooling is more important than going on a traipse through the wilderness that means nothing anyway."

Oh, oh because geometry helps me sooooo much.

"H-how does it mean nothing! It's, it's-"

"You'll also have to get rid of the pokemon."

I gape at him. I only have one pokemon. He's talking about Gastly. My only one, true friend. My one, true, stupid, violent friend,  
who've I've loved since forever. Since I could ever remember. My first memory was Gastly making funny faces on the porch. He's asking me to get rid of him.

No, not asking. _Telling_ me to get rid of him.

"H-h-how could I get rid of him, he's-"

"-A nuisance and a danger to everyone. We allowed you to keep it, because it made you happy when you were younger,  
despite our better nature, but that girl could have died, and since you're not going on a Journey,  
you won't need a pokemon so... badly behaved. You can have a nice glameow, or some other _domesticated_ pokemon that-"

"I DON'T WANT A _FUCKING_ GLAMEOW, AND YOU'RE NOT TAKING GASTY AWAY FROM ME!"

"DO NOT SPEAK TO ME THAT WAY, ADORAIN!" He roars at me, and we swerve to the side of the road, narrowly avoiding at passing car.

My righteous anger cowed for the moment, I stew in my own thoughts for the next few minutes.

"Dad... Do you really have to take Gastly away, he's my best frien-"

"Yes."

A cold 'yes'. That's all I get from him.

I try again, and again. It's all I ever get from him for the rest of the trip.

* * *

The rest of the trip takes a while, as the path up to our house is obscure and hidden away in the forest, at least when compared with the minor town that our driveway is connected to. Twinleaf, it's called. The name is rather fitting, in a way I guess.  
With the small amount of houses, it can hardly be called Bush, or anything like that. Heh. That may have been my stupidest joke yet.

The thought actually starts making me tear up again. I'm confused as to why for a split second, but then I find the reason.  
Gastly is the only person besides my parents to have heard my stupid humor. Heck, he's been the main recipient of them for years now.

I bow my head as the tears start coming down again. No more stupid jokes. No more air hugs. No more friendship.

Thinking back on my life, I think I can safely ascertain that Gastly was the main reason I had no friends growing up.  
No friends now, come to think of it. I was always known as the girl with the ghost. I was called a witch by some of the old ladies. That was actually quite funny.

But that doesn't matter at all. Gastly is my only friend, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

The tears stop, and my face screws up in anger. This isn't happening. I would take a detention. I would take an expulsion.  
I might even take not getting to go on my Journey. But no.

I am not losing my only fucking friend in this entire fucking region.

No _fucking_ way.

I glare at him through the curtain of my hair as he gets out of the car.

I am going on my Journey.

When he's fully out, I jump from my seat into his, shut the driver's side door, and lock it in the span of three seconds.

I am staying with Gastly.

I turn the keys in the ignition, starting the car back up as my Dad pounds against the window, yelling.

And you can go fuck yourself, Dad.

I back out of the driveway, feeling a vindictive smile cross my face while my hands shake with excitement at what I just did.

No one's taking this away from me.


	3. The beach sucks

Wow.

That was pretty reckless. Even for me.

I'm currently huddled up in my Dad's car on the side of the beach near Sandgem town. The locals weren't exactly thrilled to have a car drive through their town. The roads do look like they're made for walking. Now that I think about it, my family always was considered a bit odd from the start for owning a vehicle.

That wasn't really the vibe of this region.

Cars are a Unova thing.

No doubt Dad is looking for me.  
No doubt he has the authorities looking for me as well.

Well, that's okay. It's not as if that's going to make it incredibly difficult for me to get anything done, nope, not at all.  
I mean, if I steal the car and run away from home, you can probably surmise that I'm upset by your decision and that I'm determined to not go along with it. And since I'm going to do it anyway, you could at least make it easier on your daughter by not calling the police on her.

Though, to be fair, I did curse at him. And steal his car. And disobey him.

But seriously, did he actually think I would go along with such a terrible idea?

Well, I've never really questioned one of his decisions before. Or refused to do something he said.

So that should show him how deeply I'm commited to this!

I can continue the debate later, right now I have a quandary. If I continue using the car, I'll get much more ground covered, much more quickly, but I would be easily spotted and followed. Going on foot is pretty much the exact opposite, but I'm starting to lean a bit further towards foot. From the expressions of the people in Sandgem, driving a car three feet from their houses is going to be a bit irritating, which will make them gladly tell any officers where the wanted person with the car went. Going on foot with a sash of Poke Balls is the international sign of a pokemon trainer, and _everyone_ is _always_ friendly to pokemon trainers. I've heard stories in the hallways of kids who were actually given vital TMs and such from random strangers as soon as they saw them.

I need a second opinion.

I open the car door, half expected to hear a strong voice yell "Freeze!".  
It occurs to me that I've been watching too many action movies.

With the door closed, and no one pointing a gun at me, I take my only Poke Ball out of my bag and throw it.  
In a flash of light, the reason for my argument and subsequent abandoning of my Dad appears.

He stares down at me, looking resigned to something. Why- oh, the chocking-the-girl-thing.  
He expects me to scold him. Eh, I really couldn't care less right now.

"You heard all that, right?"

He nods at me, and the resigned expression turns to genuine wonder.

"Oh, don't look so surprised."

The sincere wonder abruptly turns to mock shock. I have to resist snorting in laughter. Even in this, he won't properly obey me.

"So, since you heard all that, you know that we are going to be chased by the authorities, and we can either be chased in a car, or on foot. Any opinions?"

His expression immediately turns to boredom and he lets out a single, "Che."

Oh, that's a thing now, by the way. I was told by my parents that he couldn't talk, so I've spent seven years so far showing him my literary books, and teaching him to say more than the two syllables of his name.  
We haven't really gotten to sentences yet. Or actual words. But he can at least distort his vocal chords in such a way that he can say something more than 'Gas' and 'Tlee'

That's another thing. Does he have vocal chords? A stomach? He eats berries, I know that much, but he's never gone to the bathroom as far as I'm aware-

"Reh?" My attention turns back to the matter at hand, and I see he's gotten a bit closer, a concerned look on his face.

"No, no, sorry, I just spaced out a bit there. Well, if you're going to be useless, you may as well go back inside your Poke Ball."

I pull out his ball and casually toss it towards him.

Only for him to just as casually dodge it.

And for it to land on the beach.

And be swept up by a wave.

"AAAAH!" I immediately dive into the ocean and start swimming towards it.


	4. Bird-spies suck

**I decided to add a few elements from the show into it. Just because.**  
**It's still mostly based on the games, however.**

* * *

It only takes five minutes to catch up to it (thank God it floats!), but by the time I get back to shore my clothes are dripping wet,  
and Gastly _still_ isn't done laughing.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up gas ball." I grumble as I pass him. I look down at the ball in my hands to see it looking perfectly normal,  
but I'm a bit leery about using it all the same. Is it water proof?

If it's not, then how would anyone catch water type pokemon?

I pop it open and a little pool of liquid drips onto the beach. What if I forced Gastly into it, only to have it short out?

That's a question I don't particularly want to have an answer to. With a sigh I snap the ball shut again and slip it into my bag.

Gastly's insane laughing fit is almost done by this point, and it looks like he just has some leftover giggles to get past. Gastly has an incredible evil laugh, by the way. If he really tries, he sounds exactly like the picturesque movie villain.  
I just have to wonder if it comes with the territory of being a ghost type, or if he had to work at it.

"Well, come on Gastly. I don't think we'll be putting you in your ball anytime soon. Just float right behind me, okay? No killing things."

I'm waiting for a response until I start walking, just in case. I could easily see him just wandering off somewhere.

Still no response. "Gastly, what are you doing back there- AAAH! NO! STOP THAT!"

Gastly has a wicked grin on his face as he engulfs some poor random pokemon with blue gas. I dash towards him,  
and only when I get close enough to have the smog touch me as well does he back off.

With the gas cleared, the traumatized thing is revealed to be a bird-like pokemon, black and white in color and not even up to my knee. That reminds me, I probably need a pokedex, but that's not likely to happen very soon.

"Gastly, was it _really_ necessary to do that? That thing was way below your skill level."

Gastly quickly gestured down to it before looking back up at me, "Greer!"

His expression tells me that he actually thinks that was supposed to convince me his actions were righteous.

"You can't simply go around, knocking out bird pokemon for no reason! Just because it has wings-"

"Starly!"

Startled, I turn around to see an Officer Jenny holding the fainted pokemon to her chest.  
She turns to me after returning the 'starly', and raises another Poke Ball.

I think my jaw dropped sometime during all this. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Gastly wearing the smuggest damn smile I've ever seen. It practically screams, 'Told you so.'

"You! Kid! We're going back to your home right now, your father has been worried sick about you!"

"Uhhh... How about no?" I call back, my eyes darting every which way, looking for any other cops.

Having given a warning, Officer Jenny throws the Poke Ball she's been holding, "Growlithe, go!" As she lets the Poke Ball fly, she swiftly raises her handheld radio and barks a few commands into it. I only caught three words, _found the __runaway_, by the time the Poke Ball pops and a... thing comes out. Wait, did that thing just spit fire?

That radio probably spells trouble. I wonder if we can get out of here before the officer's backup shows.

I turn around to see Gastly looking expectantly at me.

"You know what would be great right about now? For you to do as I say."

Gastly gives me a patronizing smile, the kind your parents give you when telling you that fire burns.

"... Or you could just ignore me and do your thing."

Great, I think as Gastly flies by me towards the fire-dog-thing. Just great. My first real pokemon battle, and I don't get to do anything.


	5. Impatient gas balls suck

**Edit: fixed some minor errors.**

* * *

And to think, I muse bitterly, watching what should be my first pokemon battle, that I was actually excited for this.

Gastly versus a... What did she call out? A growknife? I've never seen one of those before... A growknife from an Officer Jenny.

Of course I didn't expect the cop, but I really should have seen this other part coming. Gastly never did what I wanted when it came to pokemon fights if he wasn't bribed for it.  
Back when my classmates and I were still in elementary school and just getting our first pokemon,  
I was challenged to battles all the time. Gastly would take one look at them, utter a "Meh.", and turn his back.

One kid wouldn't take no for an answer.

I'm told he had nightmares.

Back to the battle at hand, Gastly appears to be lazily floating in a circle, occasionally sending down small spurts of haze above the head of the growknife while the dog was yapping and whining obnoxiously beneath him.  
I switch my eyes over to the cop and find her quite camly watching this. Odd.  
My eyes flick back to the one-sided battle. I would have thought, with that pathetic crap the dog was pulling,  
that it was breaking orders like Gastly, though not in as effective a way. So either the growknife is always this pathetic, or-

"Growlithe! Keep using growl!"

Growlithe, huh. Interesting. My head turns to observe the officer again when it hits me:

That's an actual _attack_?

Seriously?

I can't decide if I want to laugh, or just feel sorry for it. I'm sure it makes quite the expression on my face.

Either way, this sad-fest is over. He's wasted too much time playing with the poor thing as it is.

"Come on, Gastly, beat it down already, we need to leave! She called for back up!"

Gastly blinks apathetically in my direction, but otherwise continues on playing cat and mouse.

"Gastly, use night shade!"

Ignored.

"Please use night shade?"

Denied.

"Pleeeeeeeeeeeease?"

Nope.

"Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee -"

Gastly glares at me, an extremely irritated look on his face, before twisting back to the growlithe and locking his eyes on it's own.  
A second of this, and the growlithe's eyelids lower and it slowly slumps to the ground.

He turns his stare to me, the patented 'happy now?' expression clear on his disproportionate face.

Well, considering that that was hypnosis and not night shade, I'm as happy as can be expected, but at least he actually _did_ something for once. That's a definite improvement.

A red light returns my gaze to the Officer Jenny, who's apparently given up on waking her growlithe.  
She turns her eyes to me and opens her to mouth to speak when Gastly darts directly in front of my face.

Officer Jenny slumps to the ground, limp.

"Was that really necessary?" I mumble with my hand over my face. A strangled spitting noise takes my hand away from my face to see Gastly gesturing furiously to the path leading out of the beach and back to Sandgem Town before flying off that way himself.

"H-hey, wait for me!" I take off running after him.

Of course.

_Now_ he's in a rush.

* * *

It's only when we get back into town that I realize I forgot something.

"Gastly! We need to go back!"

He turns one side of his face to me, disbelief etched over his features. When he revolves fully towards me, I have a difficult time reigning in my laughter. In a very serious manner, one of his eyelids is drooped to give the impression of a raised eyebrow.

It's happened before, but I still have to wonder if it's simply my own humor imagining this,  
or if my reading of his unorthodox facial expressions has improved over the years when I get a distinct impression of the phrase 'I thought you were in a hurry.'

"Well, yeah, we need to get going, but I didn't get my money!"

Gastly is silent with his mouth open for a good few moments before letting out a distorted "Huh?"

"When pokemon trainers fight, the winner is rewarded with money! ... Right?"

Gastly stares at me with a tinge of disgust for a few seconds.  
Once again, I get a clear impression of words from this in the form of 'Really, Adara? Really?'

I hold his stare for a few moments, but eventually end up awkwardly moving my eyes to the dirt road as I respond, "Well, no need to be so sarcastic about it..."

Gastly rolls his gigantic eyes before turning to continue his mad dash through the town.

"Wait! We need to go to the Pokecenter!"

Gastly spits out an exasperated growl before twisting around once more to scowl at me, one eyelid _severely_ drooped.

I try to reign in my giggles as I explain to him my reasoning here, "W-we need to check if your Poke Ball will still work properly."

The gas ball stares at me in an almost perfect deadpanned manner, though marred by a fascinating twitch under his left eye.

He briskly nods his head (does that count as his head, or his entire body?) in the direction we just arrived from before just as swiftly gesturing towards the path out of Sandgem.

"We have cops after us, I know-"

He shoots forward a couple of feet until he's right in front of my face, his wide comical eyes staring into mine. 'Do you?'

"Yes-"

He cocks his head-body to the side. 'I don't think you do.'

"Shut up!"

I cross my arms and turn my head to glare at him from the corner of my eye, only for him to stare blankly back at me.  
Belatedly, I realize he never actually said anything.

"Look, I know it's very likely for the cops to be waiting for us there, but we need to make sure your Poke Ball still works. Do you _want_ to be captured by a random stranger?"_  
_

Deadpan.

"... Never mind, don't answer that. Look, just... Do this one thing for me?"

He's wearing an expectant look. Damn it. I'm going to get no end of grief for this later.

I square my shoulders back, steel my resolve, and determinedly pull out my trump card:

"I'll buy you candy."


	6. New starts actually don't suck

I swear, if I didn't love him to pieces, Gastly would be one dead pokemon by now.

* * *

We didn't enter the Pokecenter directly, at first. After my clothes were somewhat dried, I used my extensive expertise in spy movies to skillfully peek around the door, fully prepared to whip my head back around and sprint to the bush where Gastly was hiding, before making a dramatic leap and barely making it behind the bush as the entire Pokecenter explodes in a haze of fire, smoke, and screaming nurses.

However, there were no cops ready to arrest me, and no bombs ready to blow up.

After signalling to Gastly that it was safe to enter, and getting through the automatic doors (am I the only one who's ever had a nightmare about those things slamming shut on me?), I was able to get a lot of my questions answered through a particularly incurious Nurse Joy.

Though I did have to cut through her normal 'Welcome to the Pokecenter!' spiel first, which was surprisingly difficult.  
You've got to wonder how long they were trained to say those few sentences when it takes five minutes to convince one you don't need to hear it, and no, you do not need your pokemon healed.

Some people think that all Nurse Joys and Officer Jennys are identical sisters/cousins, and that they all simultaneously want to pursue the same exact career in healing/busting asses.

The retardedness of some people, am I right?

For one, that's a genetic impossibility. What, is there a brood-mother in a basement somewhere, the only goal in it's genetically modified life to pop out as many exact copies of Nurse Joy as possible?

Two, if you look very closely at two Nurse Joys together, you can easily see the differences. The shape of a jaw, the slant of an eyebrow,  
a shade of difference in eye color. There are no two Nurse Joys _exactly_ alike.

Of course people are going to be curious about it, and of course they're going to ask, but no one has ever gotten a direct answer from a Nurse Joy. Or an Officer Jenny for that matter.

It's almost _conspiracy_ like, the way no one knows their backgrounds, their first names, or why they all look so similar and dress up even their hair in the exact same style and shade.

A popular ghost story back at the high school tells of an eleven year old boy on his first journey, who sees something he shouldn't.

A stray, brown hair on a Nurse Joy.

He asks about it. The nurse's usual welcoming smile is instantly replaced with an unsettling, unfocused stare,  
her flesh suddenly appearing pale and unhealthy, drawn back over sharp bones. She stops responding to him and any other trainer.

One day later, a new Nurse Joy arrives, smiling the exact same welcoming smile and revealing nothing.

But I've gotten waaay off topic.

Turns out all Poke Balls are perfectly waterproof, so that means a lot of trouble could have been avoided if I had just taken a chance and caught Gastly off guard while he was laughing his non-existent ass off over my little swim.

I oh-so-casually asked about the lack of police officers in the town, and was told that they were apparently having trouble with some new gang over in Jubilife City, some freaks with cyan dyed hair, and so all the minor towns were currently short some law enforcement.  
I never thought I'd be so happy that a missing child was apparently considered such a small problem.

I was also given free room and board for the night at the Pokecenter because, as the Nurse Joy put it, 'We all have to start somewhere!'

Do Nurse Joys go on Journeys when they're younger, too?

Eh, never mind.

So here we are, in a small room with a single bed and a small kitchen with a television propped on the table, currently showcasing something about a 'Red Colored Gyrados'. Another myth pokemon. Ugh. It surprises me how many people actually believe crap like that.  
Next thing they'll be telling us is that the Abomasnow actually exists, somewhere in the mountains and extremely camera shy, no doubt.

Oh, and Gastly is currently bouncing off the walls. Literally. Sometimes even phasing through it. I think I heard a muffled scream at one point when this happened.

This is my reward for giving him his reward. I actually would have forgotten, had he not loudly cleared his throat while I was asking Nurse Joy if she had a spare map of Sinnoh I could take with me. Unfortunately, the nurse didn't think twice of my half-hearted request and gladly gave me an _entire bowl _filled with sugary goodness.

And of course, he didn't share either.

So here I am, lying on my borrowed bed, the television softly blaring nonsense, with a ghost pokemon zipping over my head, gleefully reciting a mangled version of the alphabet. I _could _toss him into his Poke Ball, his vision was probably blurred enough at this point for me to do so,  
but I can't bring myself to stop his fun. Even if it _is_ impeding on my sleep.

This crazy, nonsensical day was my very first as a Pokemon Trainer.

I let out a little huff of laughter as I start slipping off into sleep.

If that was just the first, I can't wait to see how the rest of them go.


	7. Cliffhangers suck

I wake up with a headache.

In my personal experience, this is always the prelude to a terrible day.

So when Gastly decides to get me out of bed after noticing my slight shifting under the covers from wherever he was hanging out all night,  
I'm all too ready to dish out my own brand of the move 'curse'.

* * *

I'm genuinely sort of proud at how long I end up screaming profanity at him, and he actually looks at me with the slightest bit of respect (and amusement) when he drifts through the door. I sigh in relief as I bury my head into the coarse fabric of my pillow.  
It feels like the softest silk right now. I hum contentedly as I stretch across the sheets. This is truly the bed of the gods.

Which makes it all the more deplorable when Nurse Joy takes it upon herself to wake me up in person with a nice, healthy,  
headache-aggravating knock on the door.

Overbearing bitch.

The pounding on my door continues. Somehow I doubt that if I tune her out, she'll go away, but I end up trying it anyway.

* * *

She hasn't given up, even after ten minutes of ignoring her. If anything, the knocking has actually increased in volume.

How does she not get bored? Is this her idea of fun in the morning?  
How is she even _up_ this early?! It's only...

I sneak a peek from under my pillow at the clock beside the bed.

... 1 p.m.! Holy shit! I need to get up!

I bolt upwards and leap out of bed, instantly awake, and yank open the door.

From the nurse's opened jaw, I can see she was ready to greet me with a cheery 'good morning!' or some other complete untruth, but she falls silent in mild surprise as she looks me over. Well, I did just get out of bed, did you expect me to look like a Disney princess?

The nurse quickly recovers and snaps her pleasant look back into place as she chirrups a joyous "Good morning, miss!"

Knew it.

"You should probably get going soon if you want to make a good start on your Journey! If you want to eat first, though,  
you should go downstairs and swing by the cafeteria!"

They have a cafeteria downstairs? When did that happen?

"It was full of other young trainers just beginning their Journeys just a couple of hours ago, but we should be serving lunch now real soon!"

Such a happy tone is a crime against nature. It just grates on the ears. Doesn't exactly help my headache either.

But food does sound really good right about now. My stomach hasn't voiced any complaints yet, but I can definitely feel it getting there.

"Okay! Bye-bye! Good luck on your Journey!" She gleefully calls out, twirling on her heels and starting down the hallway towards the staircase.

With the Nurse Joy out of sight, I shut the door and shoot to the table in the mini-kitchen to grab my clothes.

Last night, I had been given a plain, red and white nightgown to sleep in, but they didn't have any additional clothes to spare me.  
As I had left home rather spontaneously I don't have any others to change into, and that means that these are going back on.

There are also no showers in the Pokecenter. No bathrooms either, for that matter, or at least from what I've seen so far.  
The only things I own right now are the few hundred dollars in my bag, and the clothes on my back.  
No shampoo, so my hair is no doubt going to start feeling a bit greasy soon, even if there was a shower, and with the combination of being forced to wear the previous days clothes, waking up late, the headache, and this recent temporary lack of hygiene, this fresh new day is not looking too good.

I dearly wish there was a bathroom here; I don't need to use the toilet yet, but I would have greatly appreciated some form of mirror that I could use to survey the damage. As it is, I have to make do with awkwardly patting my hair down from its default bed head position into some semblance of normalcy, and hoping I don't look too much like a zombie.

After I change back into my somewhat rumpled T-shirt and jeans, I open the door to abruptly remember that I'm short one pokemon.

As soon as this revelation hits my brain, another one shortly follows it.

Gastly was the one to wake me up initially. After I cussed him out and waved him off, he disappeared.

Then Nurse Joy came.

... That bastard.

That malevolent, ghostly bastard.

I can't help but feel a small bit of pride at his cleverness,  
mixed somewhere inside the great pool of rage building up inside of my throbbing head.

I am royally pissed off now.

I _did _need to get up at some point, but what I _didn't_ need was for Gastly to send that vile, disgustingly upbeat woman to my door to harass and pester me until I rolled out of bed!

I take a deep breath and try to let it out slowly. My exhaled breath sounds almost like a growl when it comes out.

I can't even hate him properly for getting me up, since I really did have to.

Well, he _did_ keep me up the night before with his sugar rush. That's plenty of reason for me to despise him.

That's plenty of reason to kick his nonexistent ass.

* * *

"_Gastly_!" I screech as I thunder down the steps, not caring for any disturbance I might be causing.

A Nurse Joy and a Chansey look up from the front desk, bewildered, "Miss, what appears to be the troub-"

That's all I hear before the sliding doors open and I stomp outside.

I take three steps in front of the Pokecenter, just on the edge of the dirt road,  
before I stop and yell to the heavens, "Gastly! If you don't show your gassy ass right now, so help me god, I will-"

It's not very loud at all, especially when compared to my bellowing, but my list of threats is abruptly cut off by a small, befuddled-sounding "Gast..."

My head swivels to the left, where the weak cry came from, my fury forgotten and a chill running down my spine.

I take a step towards the sound, which repeats itself, a little stronger but just as... shaky.

"Gastly?" I start to run towards his voice, getting a very bad vibe.

I round the corner of the Pokecenter, and what I see make me gasp and my blood run cold.


End file.
